gone by way
of shadow & wind
in swaying sheaves
gold gather the fields
low the stone walls
that let creeks
still run through
is that frost i hear?
creeping bone within
giving grounds knelt
at boulder trees grown
rock tripe in grey & blue
lay down plates
come gentle the rain
as they do
moor songs, mere
awash with that
salt hue
Category: poetry
at giving grounds
casting runes — 17aug26
sowilo insight at sharp claws, sharper teeth a hint of lemons— how shall we name our many ghosts?
A rune poem, based on an Elder Futhark rune selected at random.
Today’s rune is sowilo, the sun. Sowilo is the source of enlightenment, for lighting the way and illumination. It is also called the “icebreaker” and gives power to an “attack”, ensuring success and/or prosperity. This rune also represents hope, the light at the end of a long darkness.
Please visit my Elder Futhark pages at sceadugenga.com for additional interpretations of the runes based on multiple references and personal reflection.
today, i will fox
cool under leaf shadow
flicker of sun of shine
bright against black loam
stretching pale under
fibre and web and green
let detritus weave the hair
to carry back on den
today, i will fox and they
can pretend i am mad —
i will laugh because
laughter is easier
than arguing
instead:
i bark the night
with finger roots digging
flame through humus
i ring too-green lawns
come morning
burning naked
under cool leaf shadowwell deep unwrought
i well deep this in
unwrought stone
grow moss long
at evergloam
naught but echo
keening of mouth
howling of heart
brittle, broken,
ravaged & worn
here of my well deep
in unwrought stoneno new tales
it blurs into mediocrity
as yellow-edged pages
feather to glitched pixel &
stories melt to meta
with every twist of the
knotted hangman’s trope
it may have become truth
laid out in black & white:
perhaps, there are
no new tales to tell
but do try.thin step away
thin step away
past all echoes and
unmoor the long
drag of scrapenail
to open a sutured
self up and
good the byei ||: colony
on the cut
nail etch i
to wash of
salt words
in the colony
i
machining sin
every part i
flow the laws
of nature in
sting blood
i
’my dear,
that is not an
act of love’
everything is just
incidental music
i was sick, sick—
iall lost boys
we're all lost boys
living in a purgatory
of our own make
dreaming
cardboard fantasies
of tin foil swords &
steel-painted armors —
a princess eager
behind a veil of thorns
we still boast song & glory
in a mead hall of ruins
shoes sticking to
ale-washed floors
slipstream still,
i sit between
shifting throngs & smiles
wondering what lies
all lost boys, we
will tell nowcasting runes — 10aug26
dagaz i shadowwalk
the barrows gloaming
neither flint, nor flesh
nor song, nor substance
a wraith tethered between
neither a living, nor a dyingA rune poem, based on an Elder Futhark rune selected at random.
Today’s rune is dagaz, which has been translated as “daybreak”, that transitional moment between night and day. By extension, it might also be interpreted as “twilight” and is representative of liminality, transformation, the space between worlds, and suggests walking in both the material world and otherworld.
Please visit my Elder Futhark pages at sceadugenga.com for additional interpretations of the runes based on multiple references and personal reflection.
